The science blogosphere must be getting big if it can support biology subspecialty carnivals: now you can read collections of posts about just bioinformatics or genetics. And here I thought a general science carnival might be too narrow to draw in a wide readership, way back in the dark ages!
Whoa. A reader sent a link to this lovely print—I wouldn’t mind having that on my wall.
(please don’t hate me for my title; it’s actually called “Stay, and I will love thee,” but I couldn’t resist.)
I know lots of people are going to send me mail about today’s Doonesbury—it’s a good one, but it’s also a repeat that was first run back in December.
I had a good laugh over today’s Lio, though.
Gosh, I think I like it. Grrlscientist dug up this automatic Advertising Slogan Generator, and here’s what it tells me my new website slogan should be.
Does She or Doesn’t She? Only Her Pharyngula Knows for Sure.
Yes, ladies, it’s true: I do know. Don’t blush; it’s OK, it’s perfectly natural.
Civilized Celts would send skillful bards to sing satires in great competitions. I applaud the idea of returning to such a literate tradition, but really…a skilled writer who knows something of meter and meaning vs. a clumsy, chattering hack who strings words together in lumpy, clattering arrhythmia? If this were a boxing match, it’d be like pitting Mohammed Ali in his prime against Steve Buscemi with a hangover. It’s Bambi sans charm vs. Godzilla with a keyboard. It’s the Philadelphia Philharmonic playing over a gurgling drainpipe. Who put together this embarrassing mismatch?
Because all the cool kids are doing it, I plugged my face into this Face Recognition software.
I am not happy.
The Intelligent Designer has been found, and his name is Phineas J. Schwartzfeld.
Phineas Schwartzfeld, who wears a mask and a garish purple and green costume emblazoned with the letters “I” and “D”, claims to be immortal and that he invented life, the universe, and everything else many thousands of years ago. He is currently wanted on several outstanding warrants for illegal firearm possession, littering, and substandard product assembly on platypuses, armadillos and New Hampshire’s Old Man of the Mountain (a large geological sculpture which collapsed in 2003 due to inherent structural defects).
Well, I guess I’m done now then.
First, I was impressed that homosexuals had such immense power that they could trigger earthquakes, but then, darn it, someone had to actually look at the data.
I say, “Fie on you, Superman Returns.” I’ll probably go see it if it shows up here in Morris, but otherwise, Jesus in spandex has little appeal to me.
The only summer blockbuster I care about is the one with the pirates, and most importantly, the villains based on marine biology.
It takes a tortuously long time to get all the narrative plates spinning, but things fall into place once the real villain of the piece is unfurled. This is Davy Jones – of locker fame – and if that sounds like a cliché too far even for a camp pirate flick, Jones, played by Bill Nighy, and his crew are to this film what Depp was to its predecessor. They’re like a bad acid trip at the sealife centre. They sail in a living wreck and have bodies composed of aquatic lifeforms: one has the head of a hammerhead shark, another has cheeks like a pufferfish, and Jones himself has a giant lobster claw for a hand, and a wonderfully slimy octopus head with a prehensile beard of tentacles, through which he barks the fruitiest Scottish brogue this side of the Simpsons’ Groundskeeper Willie. It’s a triumph of special effects that this cephalopod creation is both unnervingly freakish, yet unmistakably Bill Nighy.
<swoon>
I remember 1968, and I remember that I was into comic books at that age…but I sure don’t remember that the patriarchy was this dominant, and clueless.
Remember, kids, be nice to your girlfriends so that they’ll squelch any uppity feminists who threaten your dominance!
